


Drink Up Sweet Decadence

by Gummy_bean



Category: Your Dry Delight
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gummy_bean/pseuds/Gummy_bean
Summary: He thought of Richter, how he had succumbed to corruption and all it took was a few mouthfuls of honey-sweet liquor and honey-sweet words of suggestion whispered in his ear.After Richter and Meyer are interrupted in the back office, Meyer finishes off the cake alone. Meanwhile, Richter can't sleep.Go play Your Dry Delight if you haven't already!
Relationships: August Richter/Meyer Eastman
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Drink Up Sweet Decadence

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different for me stylistically.
> 
> I wanted to see the dark side of Meyer a little more, and delve into that wonderful subtext about the cake.

In all honesty, Meyer hadn’t planned on doing this tonight.

But oh, how Richter had seemed so _keen_ , so hungry for more after every touch. The attraction between them from the very beginning was like a magnet. He knew from the moment Richter walked in with the cake for him - how he came begging for Meyer's attention like a puppy - that he had won. He couldn't stop the self-satisfied grin that spread across his face.

When that kind of unadulterated eagerness was brought to him on a silver platter, Meyer just couldn't resist. And so here they were. Richter's lips and little moans of desperation made the cake taste even sweeter. He was more than ready to give Richter what he (what they both) so desperately craved. Meyer was heady and drunk despite not touching a drop of alcohol all night. He pinned Richter against the back of the sofa, conquering his mouth with a roaming tongue. Large hands explored Richter's thighs, fingers splayed over fabric, groping, seeking their target, just _there_ \--

Then, a frantic knock at the door. Like a glass of ice water shocking him awake from a daydream. Jolting away from Richter, who made a whine of displeasure and loss, Meyer smoothed his hair and fixed his clothing. He regained his cool composure within a moment's notice, though Richter's flushed face and flustered demeanor threatened to betray them both.

"Enter." Meyer’s voice was smooth and measured.

One of his men burst through the door in a frenzy. “There’s a bunch of cops sniffing around right outside the joint!”

Silently, he cursed himself for his loss of control and moment of impulsiveness. If he had planned things out, he could have given strict orders that they were not to be interrupted under any circumstances. But Richter had the peculiar quality of making him lose control.

As Richter discussed the mess between their men, Meyer had a sudden moment of clarity. “Don’t forget what your real duty is,” he called as Richter made to leave. Because in the end, they were still a mob boss and a detective. Even if Richter played right into his hands and melted like warm putty.

After the room cleared out, Meyer crossed the room and locked the door. Surely the lot of them would be occupied with the situation for a good while, but he didn’t want to risk any more interruptions. Richter would be back tomorrow, of course he would be, but Meyer was all worked up now and with the warmth on his skin about to fade, the memory and taste and scent of it all so fresh – he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. Another moment of impulsiveness.

The remainder of his cake sat nearly forgotten, with just a small bite taken off. He took a swipe of icing and licked his finger, remembering how minutes ago Richter had been sucking on the same finger with need. A flash of lust and excitement ran through his veins as he recalled the moment – he was sure Richter was the type to suck certain other things with the same enthusiasm.

He moved to unzip his trousers as he imagined Richter on his knees before him, how delightfully willing he would be. He found that he was wet with anticipation. He smeared it with a large thumb as he began to stroke himself, leaning back languidly against the back of the sofa and spreading his knees wide. He remembered Richter, offering his first kiss so readily, without even being asked. He bit his lip and hummed in pleasure, shivering as he imagined how Richter would react to having his virginity taken. For a so-called detective, he was so easy to read. He thought of what they would have done had they not been interrupted. He imagined large hands wrapped in messy blond hair, pulling hard, and how Richter would love that. How Richter would moan when his nipples were played with and pinched. So many delicious secrets to uncover...

He took another swipe of frosting with his unoccupied hand, savoring how the little cake from that forbidden part of town tasted on his tongue. He thought of Richter, how he had succumbed to corruption and all it took was a few mouthfuls of honey-sweet liquor and honey-sweet words of suggestion whispered in his ear. He thought about how Richter had gotten wrapped around his finger so easily, and the fact that he would come strolling back into the devil’s lair tomorrow just for the chance to see him again.

He imagined bending Richter over the desk of the Cleveland detective agency, taking him in full view of anyone and everyone. The last remaining chess pieces on the board coming into his possession at last, taking full ownership of the city.

He thought of a successful deal, a little detective pet for him to use whenever he felt so inclined. His toes curled in his leather shoes. Unable to hold back any longer, he released all over himself, soiling his suit, and thinking of Richter. A momentary loss of control to be cleaned up later.

\----

Richter squinted through the darkness at the clock in his bedroom, barely visible in the moonlight. The hands read somewhere around 3:30. He heaved an exasperated sigh. Sleep was not coming easily tonight. He was so fired up – from the alcohol, from the police excitement, from the incident with Meyer.

His cheeks burned poker hot at the memory and he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been so wrapped up in his daydreams of Meyer that he’d utterly blown his own cover when handing over the cake. Far worse than a mistake even an amateur would make. He thought of the cake and groaned, burying his face in his hands. Feeding Meyer the cake, having his first kiss taken by a mob boss of all people, and _then_ … some detective he was. Of course, he had gotten a ton of info about the Cleveland mob scene, but... he had to wonder if it had even been worth it. What would Leslie think when he told him tomorrow?

He was in so far over his head, he was drowning.

But by far the worst part of it all was that every inch of him was on fire in anticipation to see Meyer again. If he could, he would go to him right now so that they could finish what they were in the middle of when they'd been so rudely interrupted. Richter swallowed thickly as he remembered Meyer's soft yet rough kiss, the weight of him pinning him down, and the strongest memory of all, the scent of his cologne. There was no point in holding back, he thought, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep like this anyway. His hand slipped below the covers.

\----

The next day, just as Meyer had always known, his detective came back to him. Like a moth to a flame.

“I was really looking forward to the rest of that cake,” Richter said. He was trying to be smooth and flirtatious, but his cheeks were dusted pink and it was far too obvious what he was thinking.

Meyer fixed him with an intense gaze. “I’m afraid I enjoyed the rest of it myself, but I was thinking of you all the while.”


End file.
